Unmasked by Nicola Cornick Page A

memory came the impulse to kiss her. The strength of the urge shocked him. He could imagine how warm and sweet she would taste. Her mouth was full and very, very sensual, made for kissing. He wanted to strip her crumpled riding habit from her and explore the delicious, voluptuous body beneath. One step closer and she would be in his arms….
    No. His mind intervened, slamming down on his desire, imposing the image of Anna’s delicate innocence between him and the woman before him. What the hell was the matter with him? He had sworn to seduce the truth from her but that would be a cynical ploy on rational terms, not at the whim of his wayward body. He was here to expose her as a criminal, not to forget everything he believed in whilst he threw her down in the leaves and made love to her. Even if she was no highwaywoman, and her ineptitude in the saddle suggested that she surely could not be, he was still certain that she had been the woman he had met in London, a woman who had been masquerading as a whore and could well be a murderer or a murderer’s accomplice. If he was going to get close to her and expose the truth, he would need to be as devious as she surely was.
    “You should not ride out alone when you are not very good at it,” he said. “You could get into difficulties.”
    She shot him another look under which the anger smoldered. “I can manage, I thank you.”
    “No, you cannot. If I had not been here—”
    “Then I would not have been pummeled and battered like a prize fighter!”
    Nick shook his head. “Next time I will leave you to fend for yourself, madam.”
    “Please do so. I have no need of your assistance if it comes in that form.” Mari straightened up and he saw her wince slightly.
    “Have you twisted an ankle?” he inquired.
    “No!” The flush in her cheek deepened. “My head hurts a little, that is all.”
    “A touch of concussion, perhaps. Let me help you.” He came across to her and put out a hand but she stepped back, very firmly out of reach. There was wariness in her eyes now, as well as a startled physical awareness that she could not quite hide. For all his determination to be cool and in control, the emotions crackled between them like burning sticks.
    “Thank you.” Her tone was formal, quenching the fire. “I shall be very well. I will walk the horse home—”
    Nick fell into step beside her. He had no intention of allowing her to go so easily.
    “No, you won’t,” he said. “Not alone.”
    She looked at him. “This is absurd, Major Falconer. I have no need of your further assistance —” she invested the word with some sarcasm “—having suffered enough of it already.”
    Nick leaned casually against the gate and fed the horse a handful of grass. “You seem very eager to be free of my company, Mrs. Osborne,” he said. “Most women are not so quick to dismiss me.”
    Another scornful flash of those glorious eyes was his reward for this. “Well,” she said sweetly, “I am not amongst their number. I do not beg for you to stay. I told you last night that I had no desire for your company.”
    Once again the air between them crackled suddenly with something potent, something heavy and intense. Once again Nick was wrenched by a primitive, masculine urge simply to drag her off to the nearest byre and make love to her on the bed of hay within. He saw her expression change, saw the echo of his raw desire in her eyes and started to move purposefully toward her.
    The horse nudged him once, hard, in the stomach and he almost doubled over with the pain. When he straightened up, Mari Osborne had moved prudently out of his reach.
    “I fear that Star is as evil-tempered as I am, Major Falconer,” she said. “Pray forgive us both, and do not be offended by my lack of enthusiasm for your company.” Her head was bent, her expression hidden from him. “My only concern was for you. I assumed that you must have been on your way somewhere when you stopped to help me. I